Heart of Stone
by AllAmericanSlurp
Summary: Chase is the strongest of all three of the lab rats. And yet no matter how much he's teased, he never lets the impact show. What if Chase had let his envy for attention and his lust for power turn him bitter and cold?
1. Pitiless

**Hey, y'all! Guess who's back with another story!? The summary pretty much says it all, and plus, I kinda wanna tone down the "long, chatty" A/Ns so you authors/reviewers can read the story. (This was inspired by MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul's story "The Way Life Is.") There's so much I want to say that it could be a chapter all on its own... but that's for another time. **

**I've been wanting to post this for a _long_ time, and since there's a dry spell on chapters with Clandestine Covers and Marcus: Broken Android, I figured while I'm still typing out an LR one-shot I'd give y'all this story. However, the chapter wait will be relatively long... as in, once every three months. Anyway, without further ado, the first chapter of Heart of Stone!**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats.

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_Heartless__: (pronunciation) – __**härtlis**__; definition: displaying a complete lack of feeling or consideration. Adjective; Adverb:__** heartlessly**__; Noun: __**heartlessness**_

* * *

Chase Davenport was a misunderstood child. He was the youngest, yes, he was the most powerful, yes, he was the most power-hungry, yes, he was the most teased, yes, he was the smartest, yes, but, most of all, he was misunderstood. Youngest? An easy target for older siblings who feel insecure; so insecure, that they most pick on the little one to make themselves feel better. Most powerful? He had the most abilities and bionics, he had the powers relating and/or linked to the mind—the most underestimated, for, given the chance, they could kill the largest army. Most teased? Kids at school found any excuse to tease him—his haircut, his obsessive love of learning, his smarts, and his dorkiness that was almost cute. _Almost._ Smartest? Of course, the smartest human on the earth, who had a vast database, all in his mind, that could tell him anything, anywhere, and at any time given. He knew everything, and anything he didn't know, wasn't worth knowing. Misunderstood? _Quite._

He could always be counted on for his nerdy skills, and his crazy ideas of "being a bad-boy," or his perfection of following rules and being a goody-two-shoes. He could always be counted on for simply being predictable. He could always be counted on for simply always _being_ there. Where else could he be? But he was so badly misunderstood. Did anyone, for example, know that he was starting to warm up to Douglas? Did they know that he was thinking about talking to Douglas? Douglas, the enemy? Douglas, the evil father? Douglas, the killer and murderer? Douglas, the man who tore their family apart? Douglas, the destroyer and creator of Marcus, who almost killed Leo, twice?

Yes. Douglas the father.

Did they know that Chase was power-hungry? Did they know that he was a powerhouse, brimming with abilities that had yet to be unlocked? Did they know that, in one glare, or in one tap to the temple, or in one fluid hand motion, one could be knocked out or even _killed_? Without Chase even touching the man? The thought that he was so powerful touched Chase to the core. His siblings had no idea what he could do. And that's why they mocked him. Because if they knew how much havoc he could unleash on the world; if they knew the score he wanted to settle with the world; if they knew what he desired for—

They wouldn't be there to find out.

Chase had thought so severely about the offer that Douglas had presented him in Antarctica after he had risked his own life in an avalanche and flown ten thousand miles across the earth, and took care of him, and fed him, and kept him warm, and sometimes, every now and then, after being teased, he would think, _What would have happened if I'd joined Douglas? Would I be happy? Would I still be who I really am? Or have I changed since then; have I grown in such a way that I'm no longer that compassionate…?_

Because Chase had changed, certainly not for the better, but not for the worse… at least, not by long shot.

Chase had stayed with his family, the family that cared for him, the family that comforted him, the cozy family he'd grown up with, the family that let him in, the family that didn't include him, the family that considered him the odd man out, the family that never appreciated him, the family that never gave him credit, the family that mocked him and teased him and deserted him, the family that was still his beautiful, painful, wholehearted family.

* * *

Chase wasn't heartless. He wasn't cold and calculating.

But Chase was different. He wasn't caring, he wasn't empathetic, and he spent more and more time on his own, out of contact with the outside world, out of touch with his family members, out of touch with his own self. Chase had changed, most definitely. And in a way that haunted his family for the longest time to come. Had he matured? Yes. Had he begun to understand the way life worked? The way life was certainly wasn't pleasant, and after all this time, he still knew that he had some flame, some spark, some _hunger_ in his deep soul.

But this didn't happen overnight. It happened gradually, building up inside of him until he couldn't keep it in. He had to let it out somewhere. And on whom did he unleash his coldness that he'd penned in? His poor, broken family.

* * *

Chase's eyes were something entirely different from the rest of his family. They were a beautiful hazel color that shone at night, letting him see in the darkness as well as a cat. A muddy mixture of emerald green and chocolate brown, they pierced the eyes of any enemy, forcing him to look back. Even the most powerful warlords or barons had to flinch, just for a split second.

His eyes held most of his super-smarts abilities—the database, the GPS, the everyday scans, and such and such. But his eyes didn't hold just the bionic part of him. They held his true feelings, his soul, his emotion in them as well.

Bree had looked into Chase's eyes only a few days ago at dinner, and she'd noticed something different. Just… _different._ He _looked_ the same, but he was different at the same time as well. "Stop staring at me, Bree," he'd said, in his usual voice, still warm and empathetic. "You're giving me the creeps."

He'd given her a piercing gaze with this hazel eyes of his, and she'd recoiled, almost in fear, but then her little brave and feisty ego whispered, _What? Are you afraid of your little brother's eyes? Why? You coward._ And she looked straight into them.

They stared back, both of them curiosity playing her like ocean waves. Something flickered in them, a love, a hunger, and a desire. But a love for whom? A hunger for what? A desire to do…? All those questions remained unanswered; Chase's eyes were as unreadable as paper ruined and wet, running with ink. And yet, they beckoned her at the same time. _This boy has secrets so deep that it could cause huge rivets between the family. Would you like to see? All you've got to do is look deeper._

"Bree?" Chase had remarked nervously. "Your stare is really freaking me out now."

But his eyes said something else. It was like they were almost _daring_ her to explore deeper. And that was what scared her—and she'd quickly looked away, missing Chase's look of confusion. And fear. While Bree was afraid of Chase's eyes, Chase was afraid she'd almost read his mind and discovered his lust for power. It wasn't huge, like Douglas', but it was certainly strong, and growing bigger and bigger and bigger…

And that was really the beginning of his change, where he delved deeper into the unknown evils of the world, the dark side, the unexplored side that was so twisted, so complicated, so deep. Chase knew the good side was very understandable: you save the day, you get rewarded, and you're pure and wholehearted. But the dark side was interesting. It had always fascinated him from a young age. What was it like, to be on the bad side, to have the _feeling _you got whenever you did something bad? Did it feel good? Chase knew now. And to be honest with his complicated mind, he liked that feeling.

* * *

First his eyes. But there were many more subtle differences to come.

Leo had been about to ask Chase if he wanted to go see the new Pig Zombies movie with him, carrying a tray of cookies and milk.

"Hey, Chase… do you want to go to the movies with me?" he'd asked, confident Chase would say yes. Because even if Chase was the boy genius and wonder of the world, he was still a teenager. And that meant being immature and times and seeing movies that parents never approved of.

Chase had been doing algebra work problems for fun but when he'd looked up, he seemed _different._ Like he was colder, more menacing. His voice was flat, calm, and emotionless. "No," he'd answered. "I want to finish this workbook."

"Aw, come on, Chase! Please?" Leo begged with his big, dark brown eyes like a puppy's.

Chase looked up. Something about his eyes and simply that way the looked at Leo, piercing him on a kebab skewer, creeped Leo out. He was positive that Chase wasn't under the Triton App, but… his _eyes…_ and his voice! His voice had used to be empathetic and soft and kind. Now—it was harder, and calmer, and flatter, and lacking all emotion or sympathy. It was gravelly, and it almost seemed to remind him of—

_Marcus._

_No!_ Leo thought. _Chase isn't Marcus, never will be, never has been. Chase is a good guy, he's a good brother, he's always there for his family. Chase is not Marcus. Chase is not Marcus. Chase is not Marcus. They're so different. Chase couldn't ever act like Marcus and Marcus could never act like Chase. Never._

But a little nagging voice in the back of Leo's head said else-wise.

Chase's voice was even calmer, in fact, _eerily_ calm, when he said, "Marcus is not me." And he got up, closed the workbook, and went down to the lab.

And Leo, being Leo, ran up to his room, screamed like a little girl, and began muttering, "How did Chase do that? How did he read my thoughts?"

* * *

Chase had gradually become separated from his family, little by little. He seemed even more powerful; he had a commanding air around him that almost chilled cheerful demeanors. In fact, it seemed like he never talked anymore, and when he _did_, it was succinct, short, and unnerving—it seemed he'd read minds and scare the victim.

Chase was down in the lab, sitting cross-legged in a desk chair, playing around with his bionics. He slowly moved his hands in a circular motion in his lap, and created a very small, four-inch plasma force field orb, and just held it in his palm, looking at it like it was a crystal ball. _Look at you,_ the good side of him thought. _You have a perfectly fine family and you're scaring and ignoring them all. So what if they never give you credit? You know very well that they __**do**__ care about you._

_Sure, _said his darker side. _But if you became the most powerful and reserved, maybe they'd respect you more. Maybe you'd be known for what you could do. Maybe Adam would stop teasing you for being so weak. Do you remember the comment he made, back then, before Krane had geo-leaped into the locked lab? _Chase searched his bionic memory database and recalled it.

"_Great news!" said Donald._

"_We're kicking Chase off the team?" Adam asked eagerly… maybe a little __**too**__ eagerly._

Chase was brought back into reality when Bree sped into the lab. "Chase, what's _wrong_ with you?" she asked abruptly.

Chase, startled, looked up from the orb he'd been unconsciously turning around and around in his hands. "What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine." But his voice sounded different. Indifferent.

"You've been acting like you… don't _care_ about us. You've changed, Chase!" Bree exclaimed, her voice cracking a little bit. "For worse."

"So what if I have?" he asked, abruptly. Bree couldn't have known his thoughts, but if she had, she would have never said what she said next.

"Chase, I hate to say this, but this way you've been acting—I'm _afraid_ of you. The way you behave now... it's like I don't know whether you'll hurt me or not if I say something you don't agree with. _You scare me._"

Chase stumbled back, if that was even possible, since he was still sitting in the desk chair, and since he was surprised, and hurt, and several other emotions that he couldn't identify, the orb flew out of his hand and smacked Bree in the face. Bree went flying backwards several yards, and Chase thought immediately, _She's hurt!_ He ran over to her, helped her get up, and then apologized, "I didn't know! Honestly!"

But Bree had a different idea about what had happened. She held her palm up and replied, "I don't want to hear it, Chase. I know you did that on purpose. Just another reason to avoid you." She stalked off to the kitchen, where she would supposedly gossip with the rest of the family.

* * *

Bree didn't know why she had said that so coldly. She _knew_ Chase hadn't done it on purpose, but she also knew that at the same time, he was keeping something. Something _gargantuan._ One writhing, squirming mass of—what? Hatred? Loathing? Disrespect? But Chase was confident, Chase was cocky, Chase was smart. And yet, at the same time, he was becoming distant. Speaking less. Being sharper than normal. Biting tone. It all made her scared, although she really was ashamed to admit that _she was_ afraid of him. Because she had just witnessed something that could be very powerful.

She could _sense _something in the air; something heavy. _If I don't figure out what it is, _she thought, _we __**all**__ could be in real danger._ And with that terrifying thought in mind, she raced out of the elevator and found Mr. Davenport at the counter. "Mr. Davenport! No time to explain. Get Leo, Adam, and Tasha. I need to talk." And not waiting for his spluttering, she raced around the house, grabbing them all.

* * *

Chase was never scared, and if he was, he never showed it. He was always a fearless mission leader whom Adam and Bree relied on. And he'd never admit it now, but he was frightened. Frightened of himself.

He had learned through his database about psychological fears, and he'd always scoffed at the emotional "I'm-scared-of-myself-and-what-I-can-do" fantasy movies, he now understood the feeling. Knowing that he could hurt his family, just like he had Bree, and not being able to control it.

He'd always loved having his bionic abilities. Molecular-kinesis was so much fun, although it had never really caused harm. And even if he _did_ harm Adam sometimes with his plasma balls, Adam always glossed over the fact that he was hurt like water off a duck's back. He always bounced back up, cheerfully.

But now, Chase thought his powers were a blessing _and_ a curse.

With that thought, he walked up to the lab, ready to apologize to Bree.

And walked into what looked like a family meeting. Without him. What could they be talking about that was so important that they couldn't use him?

They were talking _about _him. _Oh. So Bree is scared of me. They _all_ are._

"Hey," he said. "What're you talking about?" He went for the casual approach, after all, what could possibly go wrong? Apparently, everything.

"Oh," Bree jumped. "Nothing."

Chase held back, even though he knew she knew that he knew that they were talking about him. "Well, you're certainly talking about_ something._" Innocent remark. Big mistake.

Bree was quiet, and then suddenly she burst out, "Chase—you're different. Colder. Crueler. You just don't seem—_like family _any more! You've changed."

Chase averted his gaze and let the effect of Bree's words sting and settle on his skin. _Am I really that way? I'm no different than I was earlier._

_Oh, Chase, but you __**are! **_His dark side of him whispered enticingly. _Isn't it wonderful? You've stopped being so sensitive and soft. You've become darker, shadier. You've become a person no one can trust or predict what you're going to do. Are you evil? No, but you are the black soul of the family. _

_You're heartless._

_No, no, no! _Chase whispered back to the dark voice. _I'm not heartless! I've got a conscience. I know what it's like to love._

_Oh, do you, really, now? _His demonic side mocked. _And just what do you love, Chase Davenport? _

_I love my family, _Chase stubbornly retorted. _I love them and I will always._

_And do they love you back? _It whispered. _Even though you love Adam and would do anything for him, he'd just toss you around and say that you're weak and useless. What happened when you saved his stupid baby doll assignment? He ran off and didn't even thank you properly._

_I would have done the same thing, _Chase argued with himself.

_And when you saved Douglas from Krane with your force field! What did Adam say?_

Chase couldn't let himself be swayed. He had to stay strong and not let his dark side lead him down the wrong path. He had to _be_ strong for his family…

_What did Adam say to you? _It urged, almost grinning with glee and anticipation with what Chase's bionic memory bank would produce.

_Congratulations! You finally did something!_

_Well… _his good side thought reluctantly, teetering over the edge and about to fall on the brink of heartlessness.

_And remember exactly __**who**__ saved you when you were caught in the avalanche? Was it your oh-so-loving brother Adam or your wonderfully caring sister Bree? Or your uncle/adoptive father who couldn't have cared more for you? Or was it misunderstood, evil, Douglas?_

_And I'm not suggesting you join Douglas… but you know that you're bitter. Angry. Why don't you release it? You'll feel better._

"You can't… what?" Bree said slowly.

Chase met her in the eye. "I can't ever please you, can I?"

"I can't…" was all Chase said out loud, before he realized that his family was staring at him like he was crazy.

Bree's mouth dropped. "Chase, _what_ are you talking about?" She slowly started to back away, hoping Chase wouldn't notice.

Chase said angrily, "You know very well what I'm talking about! I never get credit. Yes!" He yelled as Donald opened his mouth to say something. "You were going to say that we've been through this before and that you guys _do _appreciate me! Weren't you?" He glared at Donald. _"But you don't." _

Chase gave one more defiant glance, and then walked out of the room silently, stewing, as his family members looked after him, shocked.

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**So there you go! Did you like it, hate it, or feel like it was "blah?" I had fun making Chase feel insecure. Oh, dear. So sorry if it seems like Chase is OOC, but remember, this is slightly AU, so deal with it! Please review! I love to see your feedback and plus they make me giddy. I'll see you all around for the next chapter not-too-soon!  
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**(I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.)**


	2. Merciless

**Hey, y'all! So here I am again with the long/much-awaited for chapter after leaving y'all leaving for. . . what. . . about two months, more or less? Sorry about that . . . I'm not really sorry, because I was so very busy with a _lot_ of other things, but hey, it's better than the three-month update I was telling you guys about in the last chapter, right? So that's better than nothing. Of course, all of you nice (and not-so-sympathetic) reviewers/readers don't take excuses like that, so leave me to shuffle my feet to the Author's Corner of Shame. (On my profile.) So this is slightly shorter than the last chapter (even though I had major writer's block after the beginning of the simulation section of the chapter) so I hope you don't mind. Keep in mind there is one more chapter!**

**And of course thank you all for the lovely reviews; thirty reviews for one chapter is the best record I've got so far (with Clandestine Covers coming in close behind - and that will be updated after this is finished!); they were much appreciated, and I hope you continue the kind gestures with reviews for this chapter! R&R and enjoy!**

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Disclaimer: I do not own lab Rats.

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Life was just a whole timeline. There was the far, prehistoric past, and then the medieval past, and then recent past. And then came the present, which really wasn't there. Was there really such thing as the "present?" The present came whooshing by and then fleeted quickly into the past, and really, life was just a fast-moving snapshot/movie—no present, it went straight from past to the future. But then, if there was a present, it seemed to be divided by a second, because even if a second passed by so quickly, there were milliseconds; nanoseconds; that were so much faster than a second. To find the "present" would mean dividing time up into such tiny pieces that there would become a point where you simply couldn't chop time in half any more. Therefore, did the present really exist? If you said the word "now" that present would already be gone by the time you even parted your lips before saying the word, because your brain had already ordered your mouth to begin making the beginning phonics of the word "now."

Ah, the future. Something that lay ahead; it was something unknown and unpredictable. There were many dangers that lay ahead in the future—attack, getting mugged—and the prospect of death. Such were these "ideas" that could happen any time that should have made Chase think twice about his actions in the so-called "present" before setting them down permanently, etched in stone, in the "past." And this future, so it was, was what Chase couldn't let himself think of the most. Because he was afraid of what might happen in the future. He could do something that he would seriously regret and then he could get in a deep, deep hole of misfortunes, big and little. He would do something so regrettable that he'd spend the rest of his life in that hellhole, trying to prove to himself that _he wasn't a monster._

And so it was on this terrible, fateful timeline, that Chase found himself getting harsher. Colder. _Indifferent._

* * *

Bree knew that Chase was changing, in some mysterious way. But it wasn't really until school until she finally realized the full effects of how Chase was different.

She had been walking down the hall and then saw Trent and Chase arguing heatedly over something… what were they saying? She honestly wished that she had super-hearing like Chase—that must really come in handy!

She tiptoed forward until she was just around the corner from where Trent and Chase were fighting by the corner locker.

"Hey, Not-Dooley, why won't you do my homework? Are you scared to do it? Do you feel like you're not smart enough?" Trent began lisping like a baby near the end and began pinching Chase's cheeks the way Grandma Rose would do with Leo, who would of course be dying fifty times of embarrassment. Why would Trent just stop? He had to realize that he would fail his tests if he didn't do his homework—how else would he learn all of those… facts?

Chase grimaced inwardly at his thoughts, which suddenly seemed illogical… and then he stared right into Trent's taunting eyes, and said in a spine-chilling voice, "I'm not doing your homework for your own good."

Trent looked slightly scared, the same way he had when Spike had come out, but this wasn't Spike. This was all Chase, and this new Chase had had enough of being pushed around.

"What's wrong with you?"

Chase's pupils dilated like an angry wolf's. "There's nothing wrong with me," he said, a deadly tone lacing his words. "I'd say it's _you_ that there's something wrong with." He stepped closer. Slightly closer.

Trent wasn't stupid—

Correction—Trent _was_ stupid, but he knew warning signs when he saw them. And there were big, flashing red lights going off right now. Something was off. The nerd would never even stand up for himself before. Now he was growling and threatening and pushing…

"You win this time," Trent said, trying to make his voice sound arrogant and cocky, like he was being _generous_, letting Chase "win." "But this isn't over for now!"

"Oh, for now is no such thing," Chase smiled, enjoying the fear emanating from Trent. "It is _far _from _over._" His fingers were flexing, clawing inward and outward, somewhat like a cat's claws.

Trent's eyes widened. _There is no way out. Time to meet my match._

* * *

Bree was worried about Chase. He didn't seem to be his usual happy self. He wasn't smiling anymore, he wasn't feeling the thrill of correcting a teacher at school, and he wasn't joining Adam and Leo on their usual daily pranks. She had watched in the background, silently seething as she wrung out her dripping, pink-colored hair and wiped her sopping wet hands on her spoiled-butter-covered tie-dye shirt, and seen Chase glare at her other brothers as they asked him to help them with their homework.

She'd seen him beat up Trent. And Trent had limped away from it while Principal Perry allowed it go unpunished… and now Bree wasn't sure what to do.

This wasn't her usual worry. Not the typical worry of a sister, such as worrying about the fact that Chase had gotten an A-minus on his home economics class, or the fact that he was being unusually quiet and then he would reveal that he had taken a dare by Leo to be quiet for twenty-four hours, but this worry was just different. It was honest, deep down, worried type of worry. There was no other way to describe it. It was the type of worry that rooted deep into Bree and overwhelmed her with all of the "what-ifs" flying through her brain. It was the type of worry that wouldn't let her go and shook her and burrowed deep into her brain, niggling at her.

She may never admit to the outside, public world, or to Mr. Davenport, to Tasha, or even to her own brothers, and not even herself, that she cared about her brothers more than they could ever imagine. Her brothers meant the world together. They were the team of ultimate success—yes, even counting Leo, no matter how many times he "Leo-d" things up, he was the key to their missions as the Mission Specialist. They were a team, to repeat, and when she had lost her bionics after she smashed her chip on heedless will, she felt useless and broken because her brothers had gone on without her. She didn't blame them for leaving her behind. They had to save the innocent people in the fire. But they had gone on without her, as a trio, and Bree had felt left out. Alone. Abandoned.

So to reiterate, Bree was worried about Chase. He had injured her. She had known that he hadn't meant it. She could tell he was scared. Worried. Now that itself didn't bother Bree. He was often scared and worried, although those were _shallow_ memories. These kinds of memories dissipated. This scared-and-worried Chase was _different_ because unlike all those other times, Chase was trying to _block it out._ He was becoming cold. Distant. Far from evil, Bree would think. She could never say her own brother was evil. But he was becoming… _how do I say this gently? He's beginning to have a heart of stone._ Even though he hadn't meant to hurt her, some part inside of Bree convinced her he had.

* * *

Screams.

Loud screams.

Loud, shattering screams.

Loud, shattering, shrill screams.

Loud, shattering, shrill, desperate screams.

Loud, shattering, shrill, desperate, gut wrenching screams.

Screams.

They echoed in Chase's mind as, in reality, he stood peacefully snoring the night away in his capsule.

He was standing on a small, slightly raised mound. _Anthill. A mountain. _And yet he stood up above all of the rest as he watched his world shatter. There were people screaming everywhere, running around in the pandemonium of the perfect storm as the purple and pink clouds surrounded the mountain, which started to shape into a pyramid.

_Are you ready for this?_

Chase looked at the panicking people, as they screamed, fleeing the perfect storm, and deep inside of him, he felt an easing calm. He was the eye of the hurricane. His exterior could rip apart people's worlds, but all would be calm in his. He could never feel pain. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. He could never feel anything.

He was nothing and everything at the same time. He was so small, standing up on the mountain that wasn't, but such a big part of everything at the same time.

_Do you dare to do this?_

Chase raised his arms, and suddenly, he found himself in his skin-tight mission suit. It gripped his body, and it felt tighter than usual. A sense of power came, as if it enhanced his bionics whenever he donned the suit.

The purple and pink clouds slowly began descending down onto the people, and soon, every plant, shrub, flower, every rock, pebble, grain of sand, began lifting up into the hair and slowly hurling around Chase.

The people continued to scream.

And Chase didn't stop. He enjoyed this feeling of inflicting pain. It made him feel like it was meant to be. He could never feel pain.

_You should know what you're falling for._

"I do," Chase said out loud, and the screams got louder and louder until they were practically ear shattering.

The people began to disappear, and Chase felt his dark side soar into the world, soar out of the demon depths, and saw it join the storm, the perfect storm of his soul.

_This love will make you levitate._

"Will it?" His love for causing destruction, death, despairs. The world was tearing apart; the trees and plants and rocks were surging towards the people on the ground, so very, very far away…

_Like a bird,_ and Chase started to float, more flying then levitating, as his dark side continued to surround the Earth.

_Like a bird without a cage._ "I have no cage," Chase mused. "This is all mine. And there's nothing in the way. My way."

_But if you choose to walk away…_ Chase jolted up, fell from the air, and awoke.

* * *

Adam, Bree, and Chase were in the simulator, fighting the rebels in Syria.

"Normally I would have you train with the ninjas, but there's been a glitch and I can't do that right now. I could fix the bug, but I've been working on these rebels for a while. One of your missions in the future _may_ be to help out in the Middle East and sort the mess, but for now, I give you _these guys!_" Donald whipped out a new pair of simulation glasses and said, "Are you ready for this?"

Chase felt sick inside. Exactly the same words that had appeared in his dream—no, his nightmare.

Bree shot a worried glance at Chase, and Chase gave her ice-cold stare. "Stop worrying about me," he growled. "I'm fine."

"Chase, do you dare to do this?" Bree said.

Chase shook his head surprised. Bree never would use the word "dare" casually. It seemed like a word that wasn't used in everyday context unless it was a "dare," like the noun "dare." Not the verb "dare."

Instinctively, a blue plasma ball appeared on his fingertips, crackling with energy, and Bree stepped back.

Donald noticed but said nothing. _Chase reminds me of Douglas,_ his subconscious mind said easily.

_What? No! I trained Chase to be a hero. Chase __**is**__ a hero._

_Then why's he acting so… Douglas-y?_

_Were you going to say evil?_

Donald came to the surface of his thoughts and said, "Okay, guys, you can go now."

"I bet you when we interrogate the leader he'll say, 'Ahhhh!' as an answer after I'm through with him," said Adam smiling.

"He's mine," Chase said, sounding deadly.

Adam was about to crack a joke when he looked at Chase's eyes… deep green, deep brown, a swirling mixture of both… and they looked like chips of ice right now, boring into him like icicles through a person's body.*

"He's mine," Chase repeated, and the energy dancing on his fingertips flared.

"All right, Chasey, all right!"

Chase stepped back and let the energy die down. _What's happening to me? I'm threatening my own siblings. I'm supposed to be a hero, not a killer. Not a monster. A hero. A human. A human hero is what I am._

_Oh, are you, really? _Chase's voice came back and mentally he rolled his eyes. _I can get rid of annoying kids at school but I can't get rid of my own voice. How's that for a change?_

"Let's go," Bree interrupted his mental debate, and they stepped onto the platform.

* * *

Chase had branched off from his siblings as he faced a massive army of marching rebels down the dusty streets of Simulation Syria, or SS, as he said it, in his head.

They were in a formation of fifteen by twenty, and Chase began turning over ideas in his head of what to do. _Go straight into them. It's what they're least expecting. When they surround us, I'll have Adam send out his blast-wave._

"Adam, Bree, follow me in my force field—we're going to go right into the heart of the formation. They can't reach us in my force field, and they'll part easily."

"Are you crazy?" Bree sputtered. "That's probably what they would want us to do anyways!"

"Which is why it is least expected," Chase retorted. "They've prepared for it, so when Adam sends out his blast-wave, they won't be expecting that."

"Just tell me what I'm blasting!" Adam interrupted and Chase and Bree continued bickering, debating how sane Chase really was.

"I don't know what's _up_ with you, Chase, but your mind must be affected," Bree said harshly. "You weren't like this before! I wish you would change yourself before you kill us all." _Goddamn it, I just made him angrier. I didn't mean to! But it's the truth… he could seriously injure one of us._

_But in training we're not supposed to feel injured._

_Think again._

Chase lunged at her, and she sidestepped him, but he simply grabbed onto her and wrestled her to the ground.

"_Never_ question what I say," Chase snarled. "What I say goes."

Bree would never have said it out loud, (quite similar to the way she denied caring for her crazy brothers) but she was terrified. _So this is what Trent was feeling._

_Why isn't Donald stopping this?_

Finally, Chase let Bree up, and said, "Lesson learned?"

Bree nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Good. Follow the plan. The leader is mine."

* * *

Adam let loose his blast-wave as the ninjas closed in closer and closer on the three, and several of them rippled backwards.

"Oh, yeah, bro! Cue the canned clapping!" Adam shouted, raising his arms in victory. Bree smiled at his happiness, and glanced at Chase.

Caught off guard by his actions, she watched in horror.

* * *

"Okay, okay, so we beat them. But so what? They're the _enemy._ Who knows if they come back? They always come back because they're never going to accept the defeat, and then you're caught off-guard and you lose. When I 'attacked' them I was only making sure that they didn't rise again." Chase stated emotionless, carelessly.

"Chase, it's not like that…" Donald pleaded. "They were defeated and you knew it. Even _Adam _knew it." (Whereas Adam nodded vigorously, focused on the three-pound meatball sandwich in front of him.) "But you kept on attacking. They were down. They were finished. If I didn't know you…" Donald squinted at Chase even though he highly doubted he had eye problems. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you _enjoyed_ inflicting the pain."

Chase flinched.

But Bree knew the flinch was shallow, hollow, and broken. She had seen Chase's facial expression when he'd ripped apart the simulation with molecular kinesis, watched as he'd hurled plasma ball after plasma ball at the buildings, causing them to crash down on the injured, observed the small smile on his face as he watched the simulation of Syria crumble.

She had seen it all.

She had seen him for what he was now.

And there was no stopping it.

Coldness, the lust for power... it had lodged itself in Chase's mind, his soul, his heart.

It had settled, rooted, ready to grow. And now there was no going back.

* * *

**Good as you hoped it was? I mean, who _doesn't_ love conflicted Chase? *scans sea of readers and sees no hands raised* I didn't think so. I really hope that you liked it enough to give a decent review (again, they are much appreciated) so please do so! (Wow, short A/N.) The next chapter will be posted before Thanksgiving (_hopefully . . . _and yes, daphrose, I am aware that that's a misuse of the word hopefully, but I find it appropriate here, so then so be it!) and during the wait time between now and Thanksgiving I will be relieving Clandestine Covers of its hiatus; does that sound good? So I'll see you all soon for maybe a one-shot idea that I absolutely _had_ to post because the idea was perfect in my head, or for the next update! See y'all around! And don't forget to review!  
**

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**Footnote No. 1: (Ah, sorry about forgetting this to the readers who read this and pointed out it was missing) Do icicles boring through bodies bear a similar resemblance to another movie? Hmm? (If you guys can guess the reference - there are two - then you get a shout-out, and, if you've written any stories, a recommendation to other authors telling them to check out your work!)**

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**(I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors and/or forgotten footnotes A guest has reviewed saying there was a forgotten footnote . . . If y'all would be so kind as to help me out here because I can't find it . . . maybe it was for the Dark Horse references, if anybody caught _ thos_e. But anyhow, where _is_ the forgotten footnote?)**


	3. Heartless

**Hey, y'all! So to kick off this chapter, I'd like to award DFTBAAIDLLTWBAP, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, and Tie Dye Pencils for guessing correctly! Please check out the following stories by them: _Spike Says Achoo!_ by DFTBA, Moonlit's six-story series (starting with _Blood of Our Father_ and ending with _The Dead of Night)_, and Tie Dye Pencil's fanfic for _Bones._ (I'm not in the _Bones_ fandom, but since I promised a recommendation for stories, I would!)  
**

**I am aware that this chapter may seem similar to scribbler123's _Backtracking Yesterday_ but rest assured I did not steal it because I had the ideas all planned out the second I posted Chapter One! And yes, this chap is a bit short, but don't worry - read the bottom A/N and you'll be fine!**

**So the final chapter of Heart of Stone, eagerly awaited, and on the spoooooookiest night of the year! Coincidental, is it not? _Wiggles eyebrows._ Anyways, it would mean _so much_ to me if my silent readers at least reviewed on the last chapter to let me know you are there! Enjoy the chapter, and read the bottom A/N because that is _very_ important!**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats.

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Strangled gasps. Fainting. And one shout, loud and clear. "_He's back!_"

Bree knew she had failed that second those two fateful words reached her ears.

Adam knew that he had taken it too far with the short jokes.

Donald could only wonder what went wrong, so many years ago.

* * *

Bree and Adam clung to each other as they moved, more _like padded,_ across the lab floor. Their mission boots, upgraded once again, were stealthy and silent as a cat's paw. But it seemed as if they could never sneak up on _him._

Loud, raucous laughter, ringing through Adam and Bree's ears, resonated throughout the room.

The lights, off at the moment, flickered on and off thrice.

And Adam and Bree were up in the air, dangling precariously. An invisible force was gripping their throats, and they both knew they were losing air fast.

_What did I do? Where did I fail?_

Bree moaned in displeasure at her failure, for the third time that day. Oh, had she tried harder! And maybe, maybe he wouldn't be here today, torturing them.

Harsher laughter resounded. And the taunting voice spoke. _"So they're finally here."_

Adam's eyes burned with anger. "Show yourself!"

Bree could imagine the voice's eyes twinkling playfully with menace laced underneath. "Oh, but that would be no fun!"

The walls started icing over, frost lining the crunching numbers on the wall-to-wall computation screens. _Has he lost his mind?_

And then Adam was released and he dropped eight feet to the ground, rolled over, and recovered quickly.

"I have night vision!" Adam shouted. "You can't hide forever."

The voice rumbled like a tiger's purr. "_It's not me who wants to hide. You do."_

Bree shivered. Why was she still in the air but not Adam? She watched as said boy activated his night vision and turned around in a slow circle. "I'll find you…"

"_You won't as long as you're that silly." _Adam had turned a completely three sixty and was confused, wheeling around again. "Where are you!?"

Bree couldn't bring herself to think about _his_ name. It was too painful. After three years of hiding, after three years of watching the world self-destruct… and all because of a lust of power.

"Why are you _doing_ this?" She asked to the faceless voice.

"_Because I can, darling,"_ the voice mocked. _"I was tired of being told what to do. Here, I can do what I want, when I want, whatever I want. Something wrong with that?_" A sharp edge crept into the voice, bleeding into the previously golden tones like blood, spilled on priceless papyrus paper.

"Why us?" Bree's voice cracked with despair. "What did we do to deserve this?"

Adam's triumphant cry stopped her in her tracks. (Mental tracks.) "Found you!" Adam dove into a dark corner of the lab, and fell to the ground. He moved his arms but only found air, and then, the invisible force found his back and pinned him to the ground.

"_Ah, such a foolish, foolish boy to fall for such a trick."_ Adam writhed around on the ground like a snake pinned under a hoe, but was held in one spot. Away from Bree, the person he'd sworn to protect.

"_And you, darling,"_ the voice teased tauntingly._ "What shall I do to you?"_ The question lingered, before Bree's greatest fear flashed through her head. _What if he kills Adam by pinning down his throat? _

"_**That**__, darling, was a mistake."_ Bree cursed herself for her dimness. He could read minds, minds that he couldn't even see in a mile radius…

"_But thank you for the suggestion. Perhaps it is time to end this now. I tire of your games."_

And Adam screamed as the air was rushed out of him, and Bree watched in horror, suspended in the air, helpless to do anything, and saw her brother go limp in front of her eyes.

_My greatest fear. There. But now I have nothing else. He can do nothing else to harm me._

"_Oh, darling, sweetie, princess. You have forgotten about yourself!_" Bree could "see" the smirk on the voice's face.

Bree dropped to the ground, a sheer drop, but it hardly hurt because now anger was throbbing through her body. Why had he killed Adam? Why? Adam was only doing his job, and _he _had murdered him for the fun of it.

"_And now, to finish the job. How would you like your life to end?_"

_Painlessly,_ she thought.

"_I'm afraid I can't do that. But it will be swift. It will hurt but it will be over soon._"

The last thing that she saw before a silver glint curved towards he chest was _him,_ stepping out from nowhere, his body clad in elusive black gear, bulletproof, they say, hair spiked as usual, scars over his face, gloved hands, silent and slithery, and his hazel eyes, glinting mercilessly. Oh, those eyes. They had seen so much, and now, they would see his sister die.

And Bree uttered her last words as the knife slashed her chest, right above her beating, angry heart. "You will _**NEVER BE MY BROTHER AGAIN!**_"

* * *

If he seemed affected by those terrible, shouted words, he didn't show. The usual smirk plastered itself on the now-revealed face of the purring, teasing, evil voice. Shoving the bodies aside, he stepped over them and walked slowly, purposefully, to the inventor's bedroom.

His job was almost done. All he had to go was take care of _them,_ and he'd be on his way to the perfect utopia.

He marched, striding, the black boots making no noise against the carpeted grounds of the mansion, towards the room.

Flinging the door open with his molecular-kinesis, he shocked the man and woman inside.

The man's face, a pasty white, was an utter look of confusion, which turned to fear, and then to great horror. "You!"

"_Me,"_ he replied, still behind the blind corner to the bedroom. Turning invisible, he walked in and levitated a few yards off the ground so they couldn't trap him with one of the many safeguards inside the bedroom.

"Why did you come back?"

"_Why do you think?_" He responded, mockingly.

The man cowered, his arms around the woman still asleep.

"_I came to finish a job that should have been completed a long, long time ago. It is time to face reality, __**Donny.**__"_ The last word, that name, was spat out like sour milk.

"Where are you? You aren't so low as to not show yourself!" Donald replied.

"_Oh, if only you knew!"_ The voice positively sneered with glee.

"You… you…" Donald sputtered, trying to find a decent insult.

_He_ let loose a string of names which one cannot repeat here, and then laughed, almost genuinely, and exclaimed, "_I believe __**those**__ are the words you are looking for!"_

Donald almost smiled, until the voice toughened, and said, "_You sounded like your son."_

"_But he is in a better place now."_

"You don't mean… You wouldn't have!"

"_I would have, I do mean, and I did. No regrets on my part, and it shall be completely painless if you…" _The voice almost seemed to choke up. Emotional?

As far as Donald knew, _he_ hadn't felt emotion in years, not since he became cold and calculating, eyes chilling, voice seething with hidden lust.

"…_give Tasha to me."_

"Why would I give my wife to _you_, of all people!?" Donald practically yelled. "What would you do with her? You would kill her!"

"_That may very well be so,"_ the voice responded calmly. "_But perhaps if you do not wish to end like a sorry loser, you would be, perhaps, more willing?"_

And following the words, a fireball erupted from (seemingly) nowhere and hurled itself at the huddled sleeping lump of a woman, nearly missing her and setting her teak-wood nightstand on fire.

"_Ready?"_

"You'll not ever get her!" Donald cried, almost in tears at the hopelessness of the situation. The least he could do was protect her!

"_A mistake on your part,"_ the voice laughed, and crawling, slithering vines creeped up the side of the walls, blocking off all the exits/entrances.

Donald glanced around, and sighed. "I surrender!"

The vines disappeared in thin air and the teak-wood, shattered into dust, suddenly was resurrected and stood as plain as day where it had sat before.

"_Excellent," _the voice purred. "_She'll be safe in my hands."_

Without a care in the world, _he_ flicked his fingers, and Donald's arteries and lungs and heart got twisted into one mangled mass, and he ceased to live. Donald was gone.

_He_ reappeared and snatched Tasha eagerly off the bed, awaking her.

"Ch—"

"Shh," he whispered soothingly. "You'll be asleep soon. And you'll have no memory of this night."

_I hope I'm doing the right thing, letting her live. Maybe she deserves a chance to live. She was always the kindest to me. _

_Fine, she lives. She goes. And she never returns; never calls me by my name ever again!_

And Tasha, horrified at the sight of the room with death reeking the air, followed _his_ instructions and left, packing one bag. She swore never to return on her immediate death.

_I hope I didn't make a mistake._

He glared around the empty, heavy-hearted-seeming air-filled yet sucked-of-life room, before morphing into a black mist and flowing out the window.

* * *

The only person left was the little Leo boy. Ah, that runt. He would finish in no time at all.

He had tracked him down, and now, he was practically bubbling with glee. Again, another person killed; and it only brought him joy.

And here the boy was now, exiting a small convenience store.

Chase slipped into an invisible shade and followed Leo, silently, deadly.

Finally, Leo cut through a back alley back to the Davenport mansion, and Chase darted in front of Leo and visibly re-appeared.

He folded his arms and the ever-present smirk grew wider.

"Ch—"

"Ah, ah, ah," _he_ put a gloved finger to Leo's lips. "Quiet now."

_He could never hear his name be spoken again._

"_I wonder how much fun I would have playing with my prey,"_ he smiled, disappearing again, but his voice still derisive as ever.

"You don't have to do this!" Leo stuttered in fear. "I… I give up! Exile me! But please—don't kill me!" Clasping his palms together, he begged to plain air.

"_Oh, I wouldn't know about that_," he smiled, still invisible. "_It's my pleasure!"_

He toyed with Leo a little more, using his molecular kinesis to blow leaves and dirt and rubbish and all alley junk you find in abandoned back alleys before finally appearing right over Leo's head and smiled, all regrets and emotion gone. "_It was wonderful knowing you."_

Leo was gone.

* * *

He stared into the horizon sunset, on the top of a cliff, still clothed in the black gear. The sky was dark, and he felt a sense of déjà vu once again. _Ah, I remember it now._

But this time, he was ready. He would not feel conflicted. He would not feel emotion, ever again. For the sake of the perfect utopia, he had to be emotionless. It was the only way to get through the world. Adam and Bree had hesitated, and look where that got _them!_ Leo had begged for mercy, and he hadn't turned out too well.

Yes, the only way to get through this cruel, cruel world was to have a heart of stone.

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**Ooh, how mysterious! I hope you enjoyed the finale of this story - BUT! - **

**So news will be released about the sequel to this - yes, there will be a sequel, because of _course_ I couldn't leave you _there_, just when my evil side was getting warmed up, right? - in the next "chapter" (more like an A/N) as well as the shout-outs. Whoever can guess what happened between the last chapter and the beginning of this chapter (more or less with the exact same idea - not word for word) will earn the dedication to this story (put in the summary). Your answer/guess will be compared in the summary of the time between the previous chapter's end and this chapter's beginning in the next A/N chapter. Good? Good!  
**

**If you wouldn't mind, vote on the poll on my profile? And yes, one of the choices in the poll _will_ be the sequel to this, so choose wisely!**

**Review please, tell me what you _think_ happened, enjoy the pleasure of re-reading the chapter again, tell me how you liked mostly-evil Chasey, (my _dear_ Chasey) and come back for the A/N and the sequel! Thank you!**

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**(I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.)**


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